


it's getting harder to believe in anything

by hollow_city



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, shatt only implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 10:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12252852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollow_city/pseuds/hollow_city
Summary: "matt," shiro says quietly, and he just wants to cry. he wants to burst into tears and just sit there and break down, because maybe now, he's finally allowed to.[in which shiro finds what he's been looking for.]





	it's getting harder to believe in anything

**Author's Note:**

> hello... this is my first contribution to the voltron fandom! i got the prompt from a book, and this took a turn in an entirely different direction than it started. i hope i did these characters justice because i've never written them before.  
> the title is from turn it off by paramore. (ah, what a great song.)

In German, it's called a doppelganger, a look-alike. Literally, a "double-goer." 

Shiro stares at the man in the newspaper article. Is it possible that he is the boy that Shiro lost nearly three years ago? 

He can't read the language of this planet, as their universal translators only work through audio, so he has no idea what the caption says. But. That face. It looks so familiar. He knows those eyes, he remembers that hair between his fingers, he remembers those glasses constantly slipping down that nose.

But he doesn't let his hopes rise, because what are the odds? He can't bring himself to believe that after years of searching, he's managed to accidentally stumble upon him. He'd like to, but he won't. 

"What's it say?" Lance asks, sliding up beside him with a cup of something green and murky. He takes a sip, but seems to regret it instantaneously, because his lips pucker and his eyes squint.

Shiro slowly lowers the alien newspaper and shakes his head. He doesn't want Lance to see it. He doesn't want him to say anything lest Pidge come over and see it.

He doesn't want to get their hopes up, just to let them down again. 

"Don't know," he says, watching Lance choke down the drink and discard the rest. "Can't read it."

Lance reaches out his hand and wiggles his fingers. "Lemme at it," he offers, but Shiro only shakes his head again. 

"It's not important," he lies through his teeth because  _no_ , this is very important, but it's also his burden to bear. His alone.

Lance watches him for a tick, his eyes narrowing briefly before he shrugs. "Okay. Whatever you say, man."

He must see something because he smiles and after a quick pat on Shiro's shoulder, he's gone. Good. Now maybe he can disappear unnoticed.

Because even if he can't read the native language, he does know what a medbay looks like. He doesn't waste any time in slipping away from the celebration, offering the ecstatic aliens stiff smiles as they stop him to praise his efforts to free their planet. It's not a new experience; they've been liberating Galra controlled planets for so long he can hardly keep track, but he just doesn't feel like he deserves their praise right now.

"It is a bit much, is it not?" one of the natives comments when he pauses at the edge of the clearing. His eyebrows rise and he turns to look up at her. She's a good few inches taller than him, with shimmering blue skin and piercing purple eyes. 

Shiro barely remembers her name, from when the king introduced the paladins to his best soldiers. She's the commander of the stealth division, Mira.

"Huh?" he grunts, unsure if he heard her right. 

She offers him a small smile, revealing pointy teeth. "The music, the lights, the hero-worship."

He stares at her for a moment, his Galran fingers clenching around the newspaper. 

"A little. Just not feeling it today," he tells her, seeing no point in lying. She nods in understanding, crossing muscular arms over her chest. 

They fall into a comfortable silence and after a few moments, he thinks he's clear to leave, but then she speaks again.

"That is Matthew," she says, jerking her chin towards the paper. "You are looking for him, no?"

For a moment, he doesn't have the words, and even when he tries to speak, no sound comes out. He clears his throat and tries again.

"Yeah. Can you... tell me about him?"

She studies him for a moment, and after some consideration, nods.

"He is not one of us. He is one of you," she starts, and Shiro doesn't need much else, but he lets her continue anyway. "He came to us around a year ago. A Galra ship crashed in the east. Several prisoners survived, but no Galra made it out of that wreck with their lives." The dark gleam in her eyes suggests they did not die in the crash.

She continues, running her tongue over her fangs absentmindedly. "He was not in good shape; possibly the worst of them all. A leg injury that never healed properly, a dislocated shoulder, more scars than half of my division combined."

Shiro's stomach clenches with guilt, and it must show on his face because her spiky eyebrows furrow slightly. Mira doesn't stop, though, and continues to scan the crowd with watchful eyes. "Our best medic was able to nurse him back to fairly good health. Fixed that shoulder and gave him quite a few stitches. I am afraid they never could find a remedy for that leg."

He doesn't want to hear anymore because it only makes his chest hurt and his stomach roll.

"Where can I find him?" he asks, clearing his throat again when his voice breaks. "Is he still here?"

Mira cocks her head, confused. "Of course he is. Not long ago, our medic was killed by a Galran spy. Matthew took their place."

Something in his chest loosens at the words. He'd thought that Matt had been locked up in the slimy clutches of the Galra all this time, but he's been making a life for himself on some lovely, far off planet. 

Mira seems to understand that he's getting impatient, and smiles wider than she had before.

"He is most likely stationed in the medical tent. I believe he is treating the last of the injured fighter pilots," she explains, and Shiro clenches his human hand to keep it from shaking.

"Thank you," he says, putting every fiber of his being into keeping his voice steady. "Thank you so much, Mira."

She grins, the tips of her pointy ears burning dark purple. "You are very welcome, paladin." She replies, sheepish under his words. "It was a pleasure to fight beside you."

"You too," he says dumbly, leaving the crumpled newspaper on a table and hurriedly heading for the medical tent that had been set up across the clearing. 

He almost runs into a few children excitedly chasing each other and nearly trips over a tiny rock on his way in his haste to make it to the tent. He wants to pull at his collar, a nervous habit, but the paladin armor isn't exactly flexible like that.

When he finally makes it to the medical tent, he pauses outside. What would he even say to him? 

_I missed you?_

_Sorry for leaving you to die on an alien ship?_

_Sorry I didn't look hard enough?_

He doesn't have much more time to think of a good line because a voice sounds from inside the tent.

"I may be magical, but I still can't stitch you up from ten feet away," someone inside calls out.

Shiro stays rooted to his spot because even though he's hearing the voice through the Altean translator, it sounds  _just like him._

"If you're dying on my temporary doorstep, I'm gonna have to ask you not to. I have an image to maintain."

Same voice, same shitty humor.

Shiro finally gathers the courage to take a step forward, and after a brief mental battle, steps inside. The tent seems bigger on the inside than it had on the outside, and it's filled with medical supplies of all kinds. He tries not to focus on the plethora of bloody rags and needles. 

At the other end of the tent, bent over a hologram in the native language, is  _Matt_. 

His hair is shorter and he isn't wearing his glasses, but that is definitely Matt.

Shiro can't bring himself to move as he studies the man before him. He's the same, but he's older, more muscular, and an intricately designed brace hugs his leg. 

"What can I do for you? Papercut? Traumatic amputation?"

If Shiro didn't know that the natives have limbs like starfish, he would be mortified. 

Matt finally looks up, and the dog tags that are held loosely in his teeth fall from between his lips.

"Takashi?" His voice breaks and he barely gets the name out. "No. Come on, Matt, this isn't real, you know that."

He chuckles, but it isn't a humorous laugh in the slightest. Matt turns back to the hologram, eyes now squinted and fists clenched against the table.

"Matt," Shiro says quietly, and he wants to cry. He wants to burst into tears and just sit there and break down, because maybe now, he's finally allowed to. But Matt ignores him, and he tries again. "I'm real. I promise."

After a few ticks, Matt turns away from the hologram and takes a few tentative steps towards him. He stares for a moment, before reaching out to touch the side of Shiro's cheek. When his fingertips make contact and don't go straight through, he shudders and his fingers curl. 

"You're alive? You're... here!" 

He's speaking English now, and before Shiro can even comprehend the situation, a body is slamming into his, and his back is hitting the dirt. The air rushes from his lungs and his bruised ribs scream in protest, but he doesn't care.

Because after three years of relentless searching, he's _finally_ found him.

**Author's Note:**

> i decided that instead of doing my math homework i'd write this and scribble bullshit on my homework tomorrow during my lunch block and if that isn't my high school years in a nutshell idk what is.  
> i actually have three other things i'm working on pertaining to vld and idk if i'll ever finish them, but maybe after this, i will.


End file.
